


Come In From The Cold

by Amanita_Fierce, DoubleL27



Category: Schitt's Creek
Genre: Audio Format: M4B, Audio Format: Streaming, Canon Queer Character of Color, Developing Relationship, Dogs, F/F, Friendship, Gen, Healing, Minor Original Character(s), Past Relationship(s), Personal Growth, Podfic, Podfic Length: 1.5-2 Hours, Post-Canon, Queer Themes
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-13
Updated: 2020-12-13
Packaged: 2021-03-10 06:41:17
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 14,977
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27769942
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Amanita_Fierce/pseuds/Amanita_Fierce, https://archiveofourown.org/users/DoubleL27/pseuds/DoubleL27
Summary: “Hello, Ronnie!” Ray yelled, slipping out of his car. He waved wildly, looking past her. “Swiftie!”Joni Mitchell took no real notice of Ray and continued her snuffling of the grass. Ronnie blew out a breath and glanced at Ray. “Her name is Joni Mitchell.”“I thought we agreed,” Ray pouted.Ronnie frowned and shook her head. “No. Joni and I had a talk last night. She’s not a Swiftie.”“How do you know?” Ray asked, his head tilting.OrRay cannot keep the bloodhound-labrador mix he found in the cold due to his allergies and somehow she becomes Ronnie's problem, or according to Ray, gift.
Relationships: Patrick Brewer & Ronnie, Ray Butani & Ronnie Lee, Ronnie Lee & Herself, Ronnie Lee/Karen (Schitt's Creek), Ronnie Lee/The Florist (Schitt's Creek)
Comments: 55
Kudos: 28
Collections: Schitt's Creek: Frozen Over (2020)





	1. November

**Author's Note:**

  * In response to a prompt by Anonymous in the [SCFrozenOver2020](https://archiveofourown.org/collections/SCFrozenOver2020) collection. 



> Many thanks for Amanita_Fierce for being a lovely beta, a wonderful cheerleader and the miraculous podficcer of this fic. Thanks to my other beta, RhetoricalQuestions for all your help, advice and cheerleading.
> 
> The title is from the Joni Mitchell song of the same name. 
> 
> Dear anonymous prompter, I hope this fic is everything you wanted it to be. It spun far beyond the original prompt.
> 
> Note from Amanita_Fierce: Thank you to sunlightsymphony for the heroic last minute podfic beta and provision of adorable Matteo sound effects, to RhetoricalQuestions for the cover art help, and most of all thank you to the author of this gorgeous fic for letting me join you on this journey.

**Stream Podfic by chapter:**

**Download Podfic:** [m4b](https://archive.org/download/come-in-from-the-cold/Anonymous%20-%20Come%20in%20From%20the%20Cold.m4b) _(right click to save-as)_

* * *

### November

Ronnie frowned at the lump on her couch. It was more horse than dog, a hound mix that was incredibly gangly and going gray at the muzzle and eyes. The eyes in question had that hound dog sadness that had made it impossible to say no to Ray and the dog he had rescued from the snow. She should have said no to Ray. 

For some reason Ronnie had pictured a regular sized or even small dog when Ray had called her about rescuing a freezing dog. Honestly, it had been hard to make out any words between Ray’s sneezes. She figured she would give the dog a temporary shelter and eventually find the sweet little thing a decent home. Instead, Ronnie was now the ‘co-owner’ of a six-year-old hound mix with soulful eyes and a need to claim Ronnie’s mid-century modern, pebble gray couch for her own. She was the size of a small pony, and her gangly front legs dangled off the edge of the couch where she was sprawled.

A string of drool dripped off of her jowls and landed on the floor. 

“Well, you’re here now.”

Ronnie still wasn’t sold on keeping the dog permanently. Dogs require time and space and energy and Ronnie hadn’t been in that kind of groove for a long time. 

“We’re going to have to do something about that name though. Swiftie just doesn’t fit you.”

Ray had excitedly explained that it was short for Taylor Swift. Ronnie’s eyebrows had run for her hairline. 

A large paw lifted to scratch around the dog’s eyes, as if embarrassed. “Exactly. Ray has all the taste of a fourteen year old girl, which doesn’t seem to be your speed.”

“Let’s go with Joni Mitchell. Much more suited to those eyes of yours. Also, more marketable than Swiftie, you know, for whoever ends up taking you once we’ve figured all this out.”

Here she was, a grown ass woman, talking to a dog like it understood a damn word of English. 

“I suppose it’s time for bed. I guess you’re taking the couch...”

Ray owed her a bed and other supplies, besides the leash, collar and a half bag of dog food that Shannon, Ted’s replacement at the clinic, had handed her when she agreed to take the dog home. 

When Ronnie pushed off the wall to walk out of the room, Joni pushed up on her gangly legs and landed on the floor with a thud.

“Where do you think you’re going?”

Everything about Joni Mitchell said, “Wherever you’re going?” 

“You know I don’t have a bed or nothing for you in there. You’ll be more comfortable out here.”

Joni Mitchell did not seem to care. 

“Fine, floor it is.”

Ronnie led the dog into the bedroom, closing the door behind them. Without missing a beat—or waiting for permission—Joni clambered up into the bed.

“Uh-uh. No dogs in the bed.”

Joni let out a snuffling huff, her head landing on the pillow, and slanted a look at Ronnie. 

“Get down.”

Ronnie stripped off her clothes of the day and tossed them in the hamper while Joni’s eyes followed her. Expressive eyebrows questioned Ronnie’s every move as her tail thumped decisively on the bed. It was clearly a standoff.

Ronnie tossed back the covers before sliding into bed. “Fuck it. Fine. Stay on your side.” 

~*~

Joni was going to eat her out of house and home, Ronnie realized, as the dog seemed to consume three cups of food in less than a minute. She was calculating the daily cost of maintaining the dog in her head, sipping her morning coffee and watching Joni bound around the frost-covered yard, when the sound of an engine turning off caught both of their interest. 

“Hello, Ronnie!” Ray yelled, slipping out of his car. He waved wildly, looking past her. “Swiftie!”

Joni Mitchell took no real notice of Ray and continued her snuffling of the grass. Ronnie blew out a breath and glanced at Ray. “Her name is Joni Mitchell.”

“I thought we agreed,” Ray pouted.

Ronnie frowned and shook her head. “No. Joni and I had a talk last night. She’s not a Swiftie.”

“How do you know?” Ray asked, his head tilting.

“She covered her eyes, clearly embarrassed. We’re not torturing her with a name she doesn’t like.” Ronnie fisted her hands on her hips and looked at Ray, tilting her head at him in return. “Did you bring the supplies? That little bag Shannon sent me home with will barely last through today.”

Predictably, Ray brightened, and his hands and head began moving excitedly. “Yes. I have some beds, a selection of foods because I wasn’t sure…” Ray pauses to click his tongue twice, considering. “They have some for specific breeds, but I didn’t know, what exactly Swi—Joni identifies as. I researched all of it. Some collars and leashes and snow clothes.”

Ronnie’s childhood dogs had barely received anything. She frowned, glancing into the backseat which looked very stuffed. “Isn’t this all a little overboard for a dog?”

“I want her taken care of,” Ray said, as if it made sense. His face lit up again, his hands moving rapidly as he spoke. “Oh, and the toys. It’s so hard to tell what she will like, so I got balls and squeaky toys—these are supposed to be industrial strength, as well as the Kongs, the lady at the store swore by these, and some bones.”

“You know, Ray, they say a sucker is born every minute,” Ronnie retorted.

Ray just grinned at her, in a way that suggested he knew exactly who the sucker was. “I would help you carry all this into the house, Ronnie, but with all the dander and hair that is likely floating around in the air, I think it is safest if I visit Swiftie from outside.”

Ronnie’s eyes rolled and she waved a hand towards her house. “Just set it up by the front walk. I’ll take care of it from there.”

Taking another sip, Ronnie realized her coffee was starting to get cold. 

He was mostly done unloading the car when a thought that had been circling in Ronnie’s brain pressed forward. “Hey, Ray,” Ronnie tried casually while Joni Mitchell continued to snuffle along the side of the fence. “You know, they’re still letting people run for town council in the special election to fill Moira’s seat. You could sign up. Have the old gang back together again.”

Ray backed out of his car holding a dog bed piled high with stuff. His smile was easy considering all he was carrying. “Oh, that’s a nice offer Ronnie, but between preparing for the Christmas season with Photography by Ray and Christmas Trees by Ray, handling closet organization and property transactions, keeping up with Schitt’s Happening with Ray - the blog _and_ soon-to-be podcast, I am just too busy to deal with the day-to-day drama of the town.”

“Mmhmm,” Ronnie assessed. 

“Besides, Patrick will do a wonderful job.” Ray dropped his load in front of her door. “Give you that business acumen that I always brought to the council.”

“Mmm,” Ronnie muttered, rather than agreeing. Ray had a solid attachment to Patrick. Ray did like picking up strays and adopting them permanently, even if he found ways to give them to other people. 

Ray was enthusiastic as he said, “You could ask other people if you don’t want him to run unopposed! Campaign season is short. Someone would need to collect those signatures quickly to get on the ballot.”

She had asked. No-one had bit on her fishing line thus far. “Thanks, Ray.”

“Anything for Swi—Joni Mitchell,” Ray corrected dutifully. 

Ray clasped his hands together and looked around brightly. “Well, I’ve gotta go. I am showing the old Jones place in an hour. Might just get that sold,” Ray winked.

Considering it was falling apart, Ronnie had her doubts. But Ray was ever the optimist. Ronnie took another sip of her tepid coffee as Ray climbed back into his car. He backed up and headed down the drive. 

Ronnie turned back to find Joni still sniffing along the fence blithely unaware of the number of presents that had been dropped off on the front porch for her. “You’re one lucky dog. You don’t even know it do you?”

~*~

After an unfortunate incident that involved a pair of Ronnie’s favorite work boots and a threat to Ray about selling a dog, it became clear that Ronnie could not leave Joni unattended at home. Ray and Shannon brought up keeping her in a crate, but Joni was too old and sweet to be confined to a mini-prison. Instead, Ronnie placed her in the backseat of her truck and took her to Mrs. Tanner’s house to complete the bathroom reno. 

Joni padded in behind Ronnie, laid herself down across the doorway, and promptly began snoring. Any worries she had about the noise bothering Joni were clearly misplaced. Ronnie managed to remove the old pink toilet, the ancient and peeling vanity, and the plastic shower stall without stepping on Joni where she remained sleeping, her snores unwavering. 

Somewhere amidst the tile extraction, just as Ronnie finished dumping the tiles into a bucket to carry outside, Ronnie realized Joni’s soft snores had stopped. She turned around to find that the space where Joni had been laying was empty, nothing but a slight drool spot left on the corrugated sheet Ronnie had laid out to protect the floor.

Stomping the dirt off her boots and moving out into the house, Ronnie hissed, “Joni! Joni Mitchell!”

“Oh, we’re in here, Ronnie,” Mrs. Tanner’s wavery voice called from the kitchen. 

Ronnie hesitated, looking down at her carpenter pants. “I’m a bit of a mess, Mrs. Tanner. Don’t wanna ruin your house.”

“Don’t worry, dear,” Mrs. Tanner called back. “I vacuum twice every day after you leave. Come have a coffee and cookies with me and your friend here.”

Still, Ronnie tip-toed through the house as if she might save some of the dust. Turning into the kitchen that looked the same as it had since 1985, Ronnie found Mrs. Tanner seated at the dining table in the kitchen with Joni by her side. 

“Sorry. She gets into trouble if I leave her by herself,” Ronnie explained while Mrs. Tanner smiled and gestured at a seat.

“It’s alright. She’s no trouble.” 

Ronnie bit back a disagreement with Mrs. Tanner’s statement and headed to the sink to wash her hands before joining her. When Ronnie sat, Mrs. Tanner pushed a plate of cookies and a coffee cup towards Ronnie. They were the delightful raspberry linzer cookies Mrs. Tanner was known for. Ronnie didn’t think twice before picking up a cookie and taking a bite. The cookie melted in her mouth and Ronnie kept herself from letting out a happy moan. 

“I didn’t know you had a dog,” Mrs. Tanner said.

Ronnie forced herself not to roll her eyes. “It’s a recent development.”

“Well, a dog is a good investment. You give them some love and they return it threefold.”

“In all the time I’ve known you, I’ve never seen you have any pets,” Ronnie observed, looking at the way that Joni had settled her head into Mrs. Tanner’s lap. 

Mrs. Tanner stroked Joni’s head, looking down at the dog with great affection. “Doesn’t mean I can’t enjoy them when they visit.”

“As long as Joni Mitchell isn’t being a pest.”

Mrs. Tanner looked up at Ronnie, still smiling. “Not at all. I think she heard me puttering in the kitchen, making the coffee, and came to investigate. I keep some cookies on hand just in case. You know, my son has a dog. They come by sometimes.”

“That’s nice.”

“ _Speaking_ of my son,” Mrs. Tanner began, taking a sip of her coffee before continuing, “Phil says you’ve been frequenting the Wobbly Elm lately.”

“Mmmm,” Ronnie offered, taking a sip of her own coffee and grabbing another cookie for this turn the conversation had taken. She deserved it.

“Glad to see you getting out there again, after, well, you know,” Mrs. Tanner stuttered.

Ronnie put the cookie down on the plate. “You can say the word divorce, Mrs. Tanner. I won’t explode.” 

It’d been long enough, now, that Ronnie could handle it. She and Karen had been separated for two years, divorced almost a year and a half. The pain wasn’t as sharp as it had once been, or the overwhelming shame and guilt at failing at something Ronnie had desperately wanted to succeed. Everyone still tended to tiptoe around her though. 

“Well, it’s nice.” Mrs. Tanner took another sip of her coffee and slid her eyes over to look at Ronnie over the cup. “He _does_ say it’s a lot of different women, though.”

Phil would be getting a piece of her mind the next time she stepped foot into The Wobbly Elm. Ronnie didn’t need her business being spread all over town, but particularly to Mrs. Tanner. Mrs. Tanner was a direct line to her daughter, Jocelyn, which was a line to Roland, and while she was friends with Roland, he was prone to gossiping and teasing. He would be looking for names.

“You know how it is, Mrs. Tanner, best not to jump into anything serious too soon.”

“Yes, I do wish my daughter had listened to my dear, departed husband before she jumped, but, who can explain her marriage.”

“They’re happy, Mrs. Tanner,” Ronnie offered. She knew too much about their happiness because Roland remained an oversharer.

Mrs. Tanner gave a grumpy sigh. “I’m just glad that man has a real job now, not just wandering around as mayor.”

“Thanks for the coffee, Mrs. Tanner. I should get back to work.

Ronnie began to clear her space, and Mrs. Tanner just waved at her, tutting. “No, no, I’ve got that. You get on to your job. I’ve taken your time. Don’t worry about Joni; I’ve got her.”

~*~ 

The first thing that Ronnie wanted to do when she spotted the man ahead of her stapling up signs, was to swerve and go back the way she came. Joni Mitchell had other ideas, and beelined it for the thumb in human clothing. 

Rather than having the courtesy of being terrified like most other people when Joni’s horse-like body begins bearing down on them, Patrick stopped stapling up Town Council flyers and grinned. He used the staple gun to weigh down the fliers and made himself slightly smaller to appear non-threatening with a hand out, fingers down, palm facing up, before Ronnie could say anything.

Joni Mitchell caved like the traitor she is and, within moments, was licking Patrick Brewer’s appendage-like face. He giggled—of course the man giggled—and moved his face out of range. “Hey there! You’re a friendly one, aren’t you? Who’s this?”

“This is Joni Mitchell.”

“Good name. I didn't know you had a dog.”

“Ray found her, tried to name her Swiftie and forgot that he has allergies. I’m hanging on to her as a favor.”

“That’s awesome. Now that we have the house, I’ve been trying to talk David into a dog. There’s just something about a dog that takes a house and turns it into a home.”

“Take this one,” Ronnie said, gesturing at Joni.

This time when Patrick laughed, it was a hearty chuckle. He brushed his gloves on his knees as he straightened up. “Oh man, imagine! No, David would never. I’m figuring the largest dog I can talk David into is 30 lbs, maybe. I have a sinking suspicion David would prefer the kind of dog you could put in a purse. We’ll see, though. Should probably let you get back to walking.” 

“You know, you don’t have to put up fliers if you’re running unopposed,” Ronnie said, pointing at the poster he’d stuck up on the pole.

“Oh.” Patrick chuckled and glanced at his face like the poster was a mirror before shrugging. “Yeah, well, I guess I like the democratic process, letting voters get to know me. Besides, there’s still time for someone to run against me. I’ll see you later Ronnie, Joni!”

Ronnie frowned at his back. The peacoat he wore was too nice for one of Patrick’s usual selections. Must have been David’s influence. She continued walking Joni Mitchell down the block, past Patrick’s position nailing up posters to a different telephone pole. Ronnie could probably try harder to find someone to run against him. There were enough women in the business bureau that could disrupt the balance of white men to Ronnies in the Town Council room. 

She just had to find one.


	2. December

### December

“Joni!!”

Ronnie looked up to see that Ray had pulled over and was leaning out his passenger side window to wave. “Hey Ray. Good to see you,” she said as she walked past him.

“Ronnie! Wait! I just want to see Joni for a minute.”

Ronnie rolled her eyes but stopped anyway. “It’s cold, Ray.”

“Oh, did I not get Joni Mitchell enough coats?” Ray asked, concern marring his face. “Does she need boots? Oh, or the thing that the sled dogs use?”

Ronnie nodded, hoping to move him along. “Sure, Ray. But I’m trying not to freeze my tits off out here.”

“It's just so hard to see her up close. Two minutes,” Ray said with a grin, his voice somewhere between a plea and joy.

“Fine,” Ronnie grunted. 

Turning away from her, Ray craned his neck to look down at Joni. His voice took on the quality of someone speaking to small children as he spoke. “Hello, sweet Joni! How are you doing sweet girl?”

Joni continued sniffing the sidewalk, getting closer to the curb and Ray’s car. She didn’t look at him though, just continued to move in on the hydrant.

“Does that smell good? It looks like it smells good,” Ray continued holding his one-sided conversation as if it was reciprocal. “Are you enjoying your time with Ronnie!? No worries, we’ll get you all warm and toasty. You’ll enjoy your walks. I bet you already enjoy your walks. Have you chased any bunnies? Bunny chasing is always good.”

“Thanks, Ray, that’s enough. See you around.”

“That was thirty seconds! Ronnie! That is unequivocally not enough time for us to bond!” Ray called after her.

Ronnie gave a wave without looking behind her. “You can come to the house and stand on the other side of the fence while I’m inside any day you want, Ray. So long as we’re home. Text first,” she added, so he wasn’t just showing up randomly.

“I suppose that will do. I am going to research coats, Joni, and get right back to you! Expect me this afternoon!” Ray yelled at her.

Ronnie reminded herself several times that Ray was paying for Joni’s things and that’s why this kind of behavior was at all acceptable. Ronnie managed a half-hearted wave toward his car as he drove by, resulting in several honks from Ray’s car in triumph. Ronnie just rolled her eyes.

“Let’s go, Joni, before we freeze to death,” Ronnie said, beginning to trudge home.

~*~

Election day for Town Council was normally just a formality, and this year’s special election was no exception. Try as she might, Ronnie hadn’t managed to convince a single person to run against Patrick Brewer, and boy had she tried. People were too busy, too bored by Town Council or really thought that Brewer was actually a good enough choice. They went to his town hall meeting—ironically held in the Cafe—and really liked what he had to say. Again, Ronnie thought a town hall session was a little much when you were running unopposed, but trust Brewer to try too hard when he couldn’t possibly fail.

Even Gwen was too busy with her OnlyFans to run.

Ronnie had drawn the short straw for overseeing the election process. It was a rough job, checking the names off of citizens every half an hour or so and giving them a ballot and in some cases giving them a second one when Bob accidentally spilled soup on his first ballot. 

Joni Mitchell was curled up at her feet, snuffling occasionally depending on the person who came in. Joni did crawl out when Twyla stopped by and got her usual affectionate pets. 

When Patrick came in, presumably to vote for himself, he was practically vibrating with excitement, bouncing on the balls of his feet. David was looking around, sunglasses still on his face. Patrick headed up to her voting desk, hair combed like an elementary student on picture day.

“Hey, Ronnie. Election day duties, huh?” Patrick said, looking around the empty town hall, where there were just a few booths set up. “Big day.”

“You can have it next time. It’s really just checking off around 200 out of 500 names and handing out ballots,” Ronnie said, dryly.

“Hey there, Joni,” Patrick said, leaning down to where she was sleeping. Joni leapt up to greet Patrick, putting her paws up on his basic khakis. David gasped, clutching at the chain on his neck and backing away while Patrick laughed. Joni was rewarded, unfortunately, by Patrick’s pets.

“Off, Joni.” Ronnie commanded, and Joni’s paws thundered back on the ground. “Sorry. We’re working on that.” 

Patrick just smiled amiably and waved her off. “No worries.”

Joni laid back down at Ronnie’s feet and Ronnie took a minute to whisper. “ _Traitor._ ”

She lifted two fresh ballots off the pile and highlighted Patrick Brewer and David Rose both at their address. “Here, take your ballots and you can vote.”

“Paper ballots?” David asked, taking off his sunglasses now that he was well into the town hall and waved them at the ballots in Ronnie’s outstretched hand. 

“Cannot be hacked,” Ronnie told David matter-of-factly.

David’s eyebrows raised as he frowned deeply at her, head tilting to the side. The sunglasses waved again as he asked, “And we worry about hacking in Schitt’s Creek elections?”

“You never know,” Ronnie said, “People could have bad intentions.”

“Thank you, Ronnie,” Patrick said, taking the ballots from her. “Come on, David. Let’s vote.”

“Mmm.” David took the ballot from Patrick and continued to glance around the space. He pursed his lips twice and clicked his tongue and didn’t move toward the booths. Patrick was three steps ahead of him before he turned to see David not following. 

“David?” 

David stretched his neck slightly as he cringed. “There’s not a lot of, you know, press around or denizens of the town. I may have wasted my spouse-of-the-candidate outfit.” The ballot floated down the length of his body to show off his outfit. “But you know, I always figured it would be for a senator and not like, a town council.”

Ronnie rolled her eyes, but she did love David’s sense of dramatics, in small doses. He had confidence. “We can call Ray. I’m surprised he wasn’t following you for a day in the life of a candidate. He’ll be so sad—”

The door to the town hall banged open and Ray appeared in the doorway. He was gasping as he yelled, “Here! I’m here.”

“Ray, your ears must be ringing,” Ronnie teased.

“No, they’re perfectly—” Ray’s oblivious missing of the point was interrupted by a sneeze. 

“Gesundheit,” Patrick said.

Joni got up and started to head over towards Ray. Ray waved his free hand at Joni, his camera held in his other hand. “Joni! No, no, stay where you are!” Ray turned to face David and Patrick. “Did I miss it?”

“We haven’t gotten into the booths yet.”

“Perfect! Let’s give those back to Ronnie and we can get the shot of you accepting your ballots,” Ray suggested, surprisingly getting a decisive nod from David while Patrick rolled his eyes, which was honestly what Ronnie wanted to do. “Then into the booths, and then slip those ballots into the box. I’m running on limited—” Ray sneezed again, but picked up as if he’d never been interrupted, “time because Ms. Joni is here.”

David snatched the ballot out of Patrick’s hand and passed them back to Ronnie. He slipped an arm through Patrick’s elbow and grinned at Ray. “Are you sure you don’t want to get us coming in, too, Ray? You know, like the whole experience.”

It was almost amusing, really, watching Ray try to rush them through the process of voting while David had specific poses and angles he wanted photographed. Patrick remained mostly pleasant and spent more time soothing David than he did being the candidate. It was a whole rigmarole.

Ronnie was certain that Patrick was as relieved as she was when David and Ray confirmed the fifth round of exiting photos should suffice. Patrick dragged David out of Town Hall and began walking him back across toward the shop. Ray stayed behind to get ambiance shots, which, considering the amount of times he’d sneezed, was ridiculous. 

By the time Ray left, he was on his third handkerchief. He muttered about blog posts and official campaigns and was off. Ronnie shook her head at his back, and found Joni staring at her.

“Look, he’s your dad,” Ronnie told Joni. “I don’t know what to tell you.” 

~*~

Joni Mitchell was a big change to her routine and by mid-December she’d got it mostly figured out. Instead of lazy mornings where Ronnie often didn’t wake up until 7 AM and took a bit to get out of bed, Joni needed a solid walk in the morning which resulted in a 5:30 alarm. Joni needed to be played with and cared for and given time. This was the thing about letting anyone or thing into your home and your space; you had to make space for their existence.

On date nights, there was the pre-date walk which was actually post-dinner for Joni followed by shutting her up in the bedroom. However, coming home well past midnight usually resulted in some level of destruction—pillows mangled, poop in the corner of the bedroom. So instead of spending the night or taking too much time, Ronnie came home, took Joni out one last time and crawled into bed alone. Well, as alone as one can be alone with a large dog in their bed. 

It wasn’t bad, though. None of the women she’d dated the past few months had turned into anything anyone could consider serious. They were a series of distractions—fun distractions—but nothing like the full commitment of her marriage. She had thrown herself all-in with Karen and it had been nice to see Vanessa, Dulce, and other women that she picked up from the Wobbly Elm. It was wonderful and freeing to feel the light and heady fresh attraction without having to become so all-consuming. 

With Karen, everything had moved so quickly. The lesbian U-Haul jokes weren’t without merit in their case. Only a few months after meeting, Karen had moved into Ronnie’s house, renting out her own. They’d burned so hot, so fast, that Ronnie hadn’t seen the flame burn out until it was too late. 

The separation was different from their merging. It had been a slow process, untangling their possessions, the things that had been added when Karen moved in. Most of the artwork had been Ronnie’s but there had been the removal of the photographs and Karen’s running shoes no longer sat in a muddy pile by the door. Then, Ronnie had redecorated and the furniture changed and the artwork had been moved. New knick-knacks took the place of Karen’s.

In the end, it was almost like she was never here, if you didn’t know any better. Ronnie did, though. The ghosts of her relationship still lingered sometimes. 

Ronnie was half asleep when her phone vibrated again. “What’s up, Ray?”

“How was Joni while you had your date? You know, you could consider hiring a babysitter.”

Ronnie groaned, pinching the bridge of her nose. Joni began nudging Ronnie’s elbow to try and get her head underneath. “Ray, she’s a dog. She doesn’t need a babysitter for an evening.”

“She could, considering how often you’re out. You have too many dates.”

Ronnie’s eyes rolled so hard they hurt. “You have too many businesses.”

“I do not. I have just enough.” Ray made a soft hum before clicking his tongue. “I’ve got to run! Christmas trees don’t sell themselves.”

Ronnie turned her head and looked at the clock to make sure she wasn’t crazy. “Ray, it’s ten-thirty at night.”

“You’d be surprised how many trees I sell after 10 PM,” Ray told her. “Good night, Ronnie!”

Ronnie blinked at the phone and shook her head. She was just about to put it down on the table when it vibrated with a text. Dulce’s picture sat next to the text on the screen that said, _Had a really great time tonight, baby. Thanks for taking me out on the town_

 _Anytime_ Ronnie tapped out quickly before she could think otherwise. Ronnie was surprised at how happy the text from Dulce made her. 

Rather than thinking about that too hard, Ronnie flicked her phone to do not disturb. No one else needed to bother her tonight. She laid down next to Joni and Joni’s head rested just on the bottom of her ribcage. Ronnie rested a hand on Joni’s head in return. It was a pretty good night.


	3. January

### January

Thursdays had been Town Council days for as long as Ronnie could remember. There was a certainty to Town Council days. You showed up, kept your day clear, and dealt with small stuff before going out to do your other jobs. The councilors took turns the other days to handle town business. 

Ronnie headed to her desk while Roland bobbed up and down in his chair, his feet on the surface of his own. “Hey! You made it!”

“It’s been two minutes since you got here, Roland.” Ronnie sighed, sitting down at her own desk. “Where’s the eager beaver? I’m surprised he wasn’t bouncing on the stoop, waiting to be let in for his first day.”

“So, the dog just comes everywhere now?” Roland asked her instead of answering her first question.

“It’s Joni, Roland. And just until she’s sure I’m coming home. We’ve talked about it.”

Bob jogged in, his arms flapping by his sides. He glanced around, confused. “Hey Ronnie, Roland? The kid isn’t here yet?”

Ronnie shook her head. “Not yet.”

“Hey there, Joni,” Bob greeted, reaching out to pet Joni who enjoyed the rubs that she got from nearly every human she met.

“You’re encouraging this,” Roland cried. He huffed and slid his hands into his armpits. “No one likes it when I bring Rollie Jr. to Town Council days.”

Bob shot Roland a confused look as Joni headed back to lay at her feet. “Well, yeah,” he says, as if it’s obvious, “But that’s because Joni doesn’t eat the pens and break things. She just sleeps. Last time Rollie Jr. was here, it looked like a wild animal had been let loose.”

“Thanks, Bob,” Ronnie said, pointedly. 

Roland just humphed again. 

“Hey!” At the sound of Leave It to Beaver’s voice, everyone turned. Patrick skidded to a stop inside the doorway to the council space. “Sorry. I just needed to...the store…”

“It’s okay, Pat!” Roland called out, “We know all about the honeymoon phase! I hope Dave—”

Patrick shouted out, “Nope!” Roland smirked. Patrick walked over to the empty desk. “Store needed to be open. I hope I haven’t missed anything.”

“You get the agenda?” Ronnie asked.

“Yeah. Yes. I’ve got it here,” Patrick said, tapping at the folio in his hands.

Joni ambled out from under Ronnie’s desk and over to Patrick’s. She deposited her large head right into his lap and stared at him with her baleful eyes.

“Hey there,” Patrick said with something of a chuckle. He scratched the back of Joni’s skull, causing her to close her eyes and groan in appreciation. “It’s nice to see you here.”

“So, let’s get started. First, about the murder of crows that have been attacking the townsfolk since the premiere.” Patrick looked bewildered as Ronnie folded her hands and leveled her gaze at the mayor. “Roland, does Carmine have any plans to collect them?”

Roland’s feet hit the floor hard and he pointed back at Ronnie. “Look, Carmine is still all bent out of shape that he hasn’t recaptured them all. I told him he sold me a crow display and that it’s up to him to clean it up.”

“Doesn’t the Greater Elms have animal control?” Patrick asked, going down the road they’d tried several town councils ago. 

Roland looked at Patrick as if he had been stabbed. “Carmine doesn’t want them going to prison for being a little rowdy. They’re young crows.”

The day continued on in a similar vein. Patrick was highly competent in permits and licensing. He asked a lot of logical questions that Bob and Roland did their best to make a lovely mess of. Ronnie just kept letting Patrick blunder into various issues with Bob and Roland until he looked utterly exhausted. She couldn’t wait for the third Thursday for Patrick to experience the joy of a town hall meeting.

Patrick was packing up his folio when he paused. “So, who is the town accountant? If we need something done and need to allocate funds?”

“Oh, that’d be you pal!” Roland said, clapping Patrick on the back. 

Patrick paled, beyond his usual pasty white, ending up somewhere along the color of fresh grout. 

“Me?” Patrick squeaked.

Ronnie smirked as Roland began explaining. “Yeah, for a long time it was Ray. Then Moira took over. I sent her home with the stuff but I don’t know if she sent anything into the greater district. I always figured she’d just pass it off to Johnny. Ray used to make these nice clear, color-coded things to let us know how we’re doing.”

Patrick blinked, sputtered and remained ghostly pale. “So, you’re saying we haven’t had anyone, except maybe Mr. and Mrs. Rose, look at the books for the town since _before_ I got here?”

Roland looked affronted. “We all take on responsibilities in this town, Pat. Ronnie does most of our maintenance work. I am in charge of town morale and networking and Bob here does his best.”

“Thanks Roland,” Bob responded, cheerfully.

“Alright, Roland. I’m going to need all of the files you have from the past few years.”

Roland pulled out an accordion folder and a shoebox full of papers, which made Patrick flush bright red.

Ronnie laughed. “Come on, Joni. Let’s get out of here before this gets really messy.” 

~*~

Ronnie busied herself with adding whiskey to the cider. There was no rule for when it was appropriate to have another person come to your house for the first time: in a relationship or post divorce. It’d been too long: six months and a year and a half respectively. Ronnie wasn’t sorry she’d brought Dulce to her house, but the nerves jangled, tossing her stomach. Dulce is beautiful and fun and what Ronnie’s dad would have called “a real firecracker.” 

He’d have liked Dulce, Ronnie thought, grabbing both mugs and heading around the corner. Dulce had brought a chew toy with her and won Joni over in a matter of seconds. Joni happily munched on it in her bed in the corner of the living room.

Dulce’s beauty struck Ronnie and she stood still for a minute. Her hair was in an elaborate ponytail, contrasted with the sharp undercut. Fat thighs coated in plum tights slipped out of a leather mini-circle skirt and ended in spiked heels. 

Dulce lifted the card from the mantle and turned toward Ronnie, her chandelier earrings shimmering in the light. “What’s this?”

A snort escaped before she could stop it. Ray had a picture of himself with two thumbs up and the words _New Year, New You_ emblazoned across it. He was standing in front of a volcano. “It’s my friend Ray’s idea of a joke,” she said, handing Dulce the mug.

Dulce put the card back on the shelf and took the mug. She hummed and examined Ronnie with deep brown eyes. “He must be a nice friend.”

“He’s not bad,” Ronnie conceded with a nod. 

New Years had been ridiculous with Ray using two layers worth of masks and taking several allergy pills to visit. He’d fallen asleep two hours before midnight and Ronnie had forced him into her car and dragged him home. 

Ronnie shook herself out of her thoughts when she noticed Dulce staring at her. “Baby, was it presumptuous of me to invite myself to your house?” Dulce asked.

“You didn’t invite yourself,” Ronnie argued.

Dulce’s smile curved up, the glint of challenge flickering in her eyes. “I suggested we extend the date for real, not where you use your dog as an excuse to go home.”

“And I said you could come,” Ronnie responded.

“It’s been said I can be pushy.”

Ronnie offered the barest shake of a head. “You know what you want. You always have.”

The confidence was one of the qualities that had drawn Ronnie to Dulce the first time she’d stepped into Dulce’s flower shop. Confidence and the very sexy pout and the way that Dulce smiled. There had been many things that had attracted her to the florist, and Ronnie was immeasurably glad that she hadn’t scared Dulce off. 

“It works out, generally,” Dulce acknowledged. 

“That doesn’t surprise me.”

“You _also_ know what you want, baby,” Dulce observed.

Dulce was outlined in the window, snow beginning to fall softly behind her. Ronnie’s breath seemed to stop for a moment. 

“Which is why,” Ronnie said, taking Dulce’s hand and leading her to the couch, “if I didn’t want you here, you wouldn’t be here.”

Dulce sat on the couch, sinking into the cushion and toeing off her heels to tuck her feet up. Her thumb stroked over the back of Ronnie’s hand. Her quick, sharp smile turned soft. “For some people, allowing others into their home is deeply intimate. I just want you to know that what we have doesn’t have to be anything serious, Ronnie. I’m good with casual.”

“I like you,” Ronnie admitted, giving Dulce’s hand a squeeze, “more than I’ve liked anyone in awhile. I’ve needed to go slow, though.”

“That’s okay.”

“I, um,” Ronnie clears her throat. “You know I was married. Been divorced about a year and a half, and it’s taken time for me to be...comfortable.”

“Marriage is a serious commitment,” Dulce said, her thumb continuing its steady strokes. “It’s one of the reasons I haven’t pushed you for more. Like I said, I’ve been fine with what we have been.”

Ronnie thought more about Dulce than the other women she had been dating recently. Nine times out of ten, she wanted to call Dulce rather than pick up a stranger at the bar. She likely would have invited Dulce home sooner, if not for Joni. It was for the best though. Ronnie was fairly certain she needed the time and space. 

“I think we could be more,” Ronnie told her, meaning every word. 

“Do you?”

“I do.”

Ronnie put her own mug down on the coffee table and then took Dulce’s and did the same. Ronnie took Dulce’s soft, rounded face in her hands and kissed her. The kiss was warm and sweet and Dulce’s hands gripped her waist. 

They disrobed slowly. Ronnie drew Dulce’s cream sweater over her head, sliding it over her arms. Dulce undid the zipper at the back of Ronnie’s dress, stripping her to the waist. It was a pleasure to roll Dulce’s tights down her legs, uncovering brown skin dimpled by cellulite. Ronnie kissed her way down the newly-exposed skin, enjoying every bit that was revealed. 

It was a pleasure to free Dulce’s full, teardrop breasts, to palm them in her hands. The way they moved together was warm and easy and exciting. Ronnie led Dulce back to the bedroom, leaving scattered clothes in their wake. Ronnie made sure to shut the bedroom door so Joni couldn't follow them in. 

They fell into Ronnie’s bed in a tangle of limbs. It wasn't their first time, but something about this time felt deeper, more connected for Ronnie. Part of it, Ronnie knew, was that Dulce was the first one to have shared Ronnie’s bed since the divorce. She fit there, though. Ronnie took her time with Dulce, savoring her. Ronnie caressed Dulce’s round stomach, making her way down to Dulce’s thighs again. 

Ronnie enjoyed every moan and cry wrung from Dulce’s body. She allowed herself to tremble and give into her own pleasure as Dulce gave as good as she got. 

Hours and several orgasams later, Ronnie kissed Dulce’s shoulder before slipping from the bed. She didn’t want to leave the warmth of the woman she had been cuddled up with. 

Joni, however, needed to be walked and was probably disgruntled from being locked out of the bedroom.

As Ronnie began getting dressed she crossed to look out the window. The snow was really coming down. When Ronnie had thrown her shirt on, she turned back to the bed and saw Dulce climbing out. 

Ronnie reached out and put a hand on Dulce’s arm. Dulce just raised one perfect eyebrow at Ronnie rather than asking anything. Assuming why Dulce was getting up, Ronnie said, “Don’t go home. It’s too awful out there tonight. Stay. I just have to take Joni out.”

Dulce smiled, soft and sweet rather than her usual sharp smile. “I don’t want to overstep.”

“I don’t want you to go,” Ronnie answered, plainly.

“Alright then,” Dulce acquiesced, climbing back into the bed. 

Ronnie leaned over and pressed a kiss to Dulce’s lips. “I’ll be right back.”

Ronnie hurried out and found Joni on the couch looking her most forlorn. She had not ruined anything but she’d covered the couch with all of her toys, none of which were allowed on it. “You like her,” Ronnie said. “Let’s go out and then I’ll let you come back to bed.”

Joni seemed mollified and hopped off the couch and followed her to the back door. Usually sex wore Ronnie out, at least sex as exciting as she’d had tonight. Instead, she felt thoroughly exhilarated. It probably had more to do with Dulce spending the night than anything else. 

Ronnie threw on a coat and her boots, letting Joni out the back onto the patio. Ronnie pulled her parka tight already planning out her plowing schedule and what she’ll make Dulce for breakfast. Waffles were always a winner. She’d have to nix the cinnamon from the recipe, like she had with the cider. Despite the cold, Ronnie grinned. Tomorrow was going to be a great day.


	4. February

### February 

February came in hard, full of snow and biting winds. Ronnie spent many nights with Joni’s head in her lap as they cleared the streets of snow, plow scraping against the ground. Ronnie was used to solitude most winters, cruising around Schitt’s Creek and the Greater Elms, plowing out streets, businesses and people’s driveways. It wasn’t half bad to have a warm companion next to her, Joni Mitchell’s head nudging her every now and then for a scratch or pat. Sometimes, they’d sit it out, waiting for the next job. 

Joni could still catch wind of scents under the snow and left snuffling trails before the snow grew too tall for her. Once that happened, Joni began bounding through the drifts, whether her legs hit solid ground or just impacted snow. Ronnie tried shoveling out trails in the back that Joni used for a while and then patently ignored when tracing a scent. 

The Musher’s Secret paste Ray had gotten was a life saver when battling the salt that Ray scattered on the ground behind her plow. They’d had a rough patch before Ronnie started using the salve, and Joni shook off the boots every time they went out and then Joni ended up limping, holding paws off the ground and crying. It was after the trip where Ronnie ended up with four boots in her pockets and a 90 pound dog in her arms for the last mile. 

It had been the salve on every time since then, with no further crying and limping on their walks. However, there still was the awful moment of cleaning Joni’s paws at the end of the walk. 

“Let me wash your paws off.” Ronnie grabbed for the right paw that was now hovering midair. Joni pulled it further back, hopping away, still holding it aloft and Ronnie moved the bowl of warm water to keep it from being knocked over. “I know.”

Managing to snag the front paw that hadn’t yet been cleaned, Ronnie dunked it in the water and then immediately wrapped it with a towel to dry it off. “You go splashing through ten million different kinds of water and this, this is a step too far.”

She made quick work out of the back paws, which were the most prone to knocking water all over the floor, Ronnie’s lap, and under the bench of her mudroom, and then resulted in wet paw prints all over the house.

All that was avoided and Ronnie was just left with a glare over the shoulder before Joni loped into the house and settled in on the couch. Ronnie began bundling towels and putting the bowl in the dishwasher. 

“Ding dong!” Ray announced himself, and Ronnie was fairly certain he was in the house. 

She glanced around the kitchen wall to see Ray standing in the front entryway with a collection of items around his feet. He waved, as if he hadn’t just pretended to be the doorbell she definitely had.

“Ray, it doesn’t count as a bell if you say it out loud as you’re entering my house,” Ronnie reminded him for the millionth time.

Ray fisted his hands on his hips, brows drawing together and his lips pursing. “Well, it should.”

“What’s up, Ray?” Ronnie tried, hoping to speed things along, mostly for Ray’s allergies. Partially for her own evening to-do list. 

“I’m _not_ staying long, however, I brought fresh food and some new toys.” 

“Ray, she has enough toys,” Ronnie responded. 

“I also brought some _treats.”_ Ray whispered excitedly. 

It didn’t matter that he whispered. Joni’s ears perked up, pulling the long flaps away from the side of her face. She began to stand on the couch.

Ray waved his arms at Joni, eyes wide. “No, no, Joni. Stay where you are.”

“Joni, stay!” Ronnie commanded. Joni’s butt hit the couch and she laid back down. 

Ray looked at her with delight. “She’s getting good at that.”

“Yeah, the trainer you gifted us for Christmas is working,” Ronnie admitted.

“Good. Good. I’m very glad that you two are getting along so well. A little birdie tells me you’re narrowing down your dating prospects.”

 _Fucking Phil._ Ronnie thought, tucking her hands in her armpits. “Who are you talking to about me?”

“Oh, Ronnie. I just worry about you. Many people have spotted you out and about with a lovely florist, I hear. _And,”_ Ray continued, his excitement growing, “I hear her car has been parked in your driveway more than once.”

“Stop, Ray,” Ronnie warned.

Ray tsked at her twice and shook his head. “I think it’s good. When can I meet her?”

“Maybe never,” Ronnie retorted.

Ray sneezed loudly. He grabbed a handkerchief out of his pocket and mopped at his nose. “Don’t say that. I can go find her if I need to.”

“You’ll meet her when I say you can meet her,” Ronnie shot back. “I’m taking this one slow.”

Ray smiled at her. “She has a business here.”

“Mmm, that doesn’t mean anything,” Ronnie said. 

Ray frowned at her. His gaze seemed to cut straight through her. “Karen always had her eye on bigger things. You knew that.”

“I didn’t think she wanted those things beyond this place, this area,” Ronnie clarified. She had hoped that when Karen talked about growing her business and bigger reach, she had meant outside of Elmdale and throughout the Greater Elms, as far as Thornebridge and beyond. Instead, Karen had meant Toronto.

“You didn’t ask,” Ray reminded her. “You made it very clear, however, what you wanted.”

She had. Karen hadn’t wanted to rock the boat but had also subtly hinted to Ronnie that they should move to a bigger city. Ronnie had blatantly ignored the hints. Karen would never outright broach it on her own, and Ronnie didn’t want to go. Eventually, Karen went anyway. 

“Dulce’s very direct,” Ronnie said. 

“That must be very refreshing,” Ray said, smiling. “You should let me meet her.”

“I will let you know. Goodbye, Ray. I’ve got things to do.”

~*~

“Figures,” Ronnie said, coming up on Dulce who was lacing a pair of black figure skates. 

Today, Dulce had a raspberry beret on, and Ronnie couldn’t help but think that it was a very clear sign of what was to come. One couldn’t allude to a Prince song and not follow through. Ronnie’s hockey skates bumped against her back as she made her way down the path to where Dulce was. 

“Why, Ms. Lee, was that a pun?” Dulce asked, her voice turning seductive. 

“Possibly.”

Ronnie sat down and began to put on her hockey skates. Joni was home. Ronnie was working on something the dog trainer suggested: taking short trips away from the house and praising Joni upon returning to find nothing damaged. They were at the multiple hours stage, and Dulce had suggested skating.

Combined sports were not a regular date occurrence for Ronnie. Ronnie was competitive and could slide into full on mean-spirited if she wasn’t careful. Ronnie invited dates to things like games and matches and bonspiels to watch her do sports but not do them together. Dulce kept checking off firsts Ronnie hadn’t realized she had.

Ronnie turned to face Dulce, shoving to her feet. She held out a hand to help Dulce up. “Ready?”

“Yes,” Dulce said, slipping her hand into Ronnie’s.

After an awkward waddle to the ice, they both pushed off and started gliding. Everything felt right. Ronnie loved the feel of the ice underneath her skates and the way it felt almost like flying. The air was crisp and sharp, but everything felt warm. Within a lap of the lake, Dulce expertly turned, and began skating backwards in smooth strokes. Her cheeks were flushed bright with the cold.

“I don’t know how you do it in those things. I could never manage figure skates,” Ronnie admitted. “Somehow my feet always came right out from under me.”

“It’s all in the ankles, baby. Strong ones,” Dulce told her with a wink.

“You have strength in spades,” Ronnie agreed.

“Amongst other things.”

Dulce moved into a quick backward swizzle step, earning her a gasp of delight that Ronnie couldn’t quite stifle. 

“I’m impressed,” Ronnie said.

Dulce grinned back at her, continuing to skate backwards. “1988 Calgary Olympics was a banner year for Canadian Olympic skating. I was obsessed.” She shook her head and rolled her eyes, seemingly at herself. “I mean, I had been obsessed before that, but there’s something about seeing Canadians win. Not that any of the girls on the ice ever looked quite like me.”

Ronnie skated close and took Dulce’s hands. They spun together, slowing down in a circle. “You’d be the prettiest one on the ice.”

Dulce lifted a mittened hand to cup Ronnie’s cheek. “You flatter me, baby.”

Ronnie stole a kiss before pushing off against Dulce. She began racing across the ice. 

“Hey!” Dulce yelled. Ronnie didn’t look back.

“Catch up,” she called.

The sound of Dulce’s skates against the ice made Ronnie speed up. When she could hear Ducle creeping up on her, Ronnie pivoted with the ease of years of hockey and gilded back toward where they started. Dulce’s laughing yell came from behind and Ronnie cackled. Sprints during hockey practices had left her with strong thighs and the ability to fly across the ice. Ronnie sprayed up ice as she skidded to a stop at the edge of the pond. Suddenly, two arms closed around her and they flew into the snowbank beside the ice. 

“That was a dirty trick,” Ronnie said, turning over in the snow to grin up at the woman on top of her.

“So was pushing me on the ice,” Dulce shot back, smiling herself.

Ronnie leaned up and stole a kiss. She should have felt cold, the snow seeping into her bones, but instead Ronnie seemed to be on fire from within. “You should know, I don’t want to see anyone else.”

“Is that your way of asking me to go steady?” Dulce asked, her lips curving into a deep smile. 

“If that’s what you want to call it, then yeah,” Ronnie said.

“Yes, Ronnie. We can go steady.” Dulce leaned down to give her another kiss. She winked when she pulled back. “I expect a pin.” 

~*~

Public comment happened regularly on the third Thursday of every month at 5 PM. During the month of February, crowds were the last thing Ronnie needed. She was not thrilled as she stomped the snow off her boots. 

Tensions were running high out of the latest round of debates on transportation out of Schitt's Creek. Nonsense about the placement of the bus stop that would run to the train in Elm Glen was going to be the death of her. This was going to be their third time on the topic, one of which was a special meeting to continue public comment. 

,She shot a look at Patrick. “What’d you do? There’s twice as many people as there were last month.”

 _“Me? Nothing.”_ Ronnie liked that she could still get a rise out of him. Patrick looked behind her, searching. “Where’s Joni?”

Ronnie gave a grunt when she sat down. “Left her home. Working on her separation anxiety.”

“Oh, that’s good,” Patrick said, offering her a friendly grin. “We had a greyhound once when I was a kid. She never did get over the anxiety. Cookie used to ride around in the car with my mom everywhere, went to work with her and everything.”

“Mm,” Ronnie said, hoping to end the muttering from behind her. 

“Well,” Roland said, sniffing loudly and hiking his pants up as he strolled up to the table. He repositioned his Mayoral medal on his chest before sitting. “We should probably call this meeting to order.”

Roland coughed twice before banging the gavel. “Town meeting has come to order. First—” Before Roland could call anyone, Darlene was already standing in the aisle. “Okay, Darlene.”

“I just don’t understand why the bus comes through on Route 56 instead of 32.” Darlene started. “It takes me much longer to get to 56 and 32 is right near my house.” 

The meeting continued on in much the same way, where no one cared about the actual path of the bus route or why it was coming through, but instead how much they would be inconvenienced by it not personally picking them up. 

“We have to flag the bus down? Like a taxi? But why can’t it just stop?” Carmine asked.

“If you wanted it to be a taxi, you should have just made it a taxi,” Dot interrupted Carmine. “We should just use the town taxi.”

“We don’t have a town taxi, but we have Rides by Ray,” Roland offered.

“Just so you all know,” Bob broke in over the thoughts of the crowd. “Bob’s Garage now offers complimentary rides within three kilometers with any service package on your car.”

“Who gives a fuck,” Darlene’s cousin, Arlene, shouted. “I want to talk about the topiaries that keep getting cut in the night to look like penises. We should commend whoever is proud enough to do it.”

“Thank you, Arlene,” Roland said, loudly, banging his gavel again. “We are getting the bus. You have to flag it down because…” 

Patrick jumped into Roland’s silence. “Look, the bus is an option to get into both Elm Glen and further into Toronto and come back and to Thornbridge, where there’s a train to Ottawa. It connects Schitt’s Creek to larger metropolises, and allows people to come here. Yes, the bus will need to get flagged down, but if we have to flag it down often, Schitt’s Creek could become a permanent stop.”

“Now, if you don’t want to use the bus, don’t,” Patrick told the townspeople gathered, “But it could be good for all of us if you do. I have charts that I think could be illuminating.”

Ronnie cut her eyes over to see Patrick pull out a bunch of collated packets from his bag. She also got a load of Roland’s eyes going wide.

“Exactly! It’s a win!” Roland called out, banging his gavel against the table.

Ronnie chucked at the way Patrick’s face fell. Roland stood and waved at the crowded town hall. “Meeting adjourned. Anyone with further questions can check out Patrick’s...charts and we will take up penis plants next meeting.”

The crowd groaned, getting up and beginning to shuffle on out of the town hall. No one came to get one of Patrick’s carefully collated packets. “Thanks, Pat! Brilliant move trying to bore them all with those colored pages.” 

“I mean, they are _actually_ informative,” Patrick said, frowning at them before he put back into his case.

“Look, it got us out of here before eight o’clock.” Ronnie told Patrick, standing and stretching. “We’re going to count it as a win. I gotta go make sure a dog didn’t tear up my house.” 

Ronnie headed over and grabbed her coat off the hook. “Not bad, Brewer. Not bad,” she said, before she could think better of it.


	5. March

### March

March was always a rough month for Ronnie. It was gray and dark and jobs were small or repetitive and dull, construction or otherwise. Thankfully, Ronnie had other things to brighten her days now. When not wanting to walk miles on miles, Joni liked to curl up in blankets on the couch, more a lap dog than a pure hunter. Ronnie was glad for things like Scotchgard and other means of protecting against drool stains. 

Dulce became another wonderful bright spot. Texting is the providence of younger people, and yet Ronnie still smiled every time her phone vibrated. Trips to Elm Valley and even as far as Thornbridge break up the relative monotony and add a little more color. The other thing that Dulce does is brighten up her house.

There’s something about having another woman in her space, full time. Part of Ronnie had told herself she was too old, too stuck in her ways to make room for a new person. That if it hadn’t worked out with Karen, it wasn’t going to work out with anyone. She had thrown herself into making her place her own. 

Yet, Dulce fit here. There were flowers on the table and music filtering in from the kitchen when Ronnie came back from a plowing run to find a warm woman with a dog asleep on her couch. 

Ronnie pressed a kiss to Dulce’s forehead, and sleepy eyes batted awake. “Hey. Sorry.”

“What are you sorry for? I left a date to go plow,” Ronnie said, pushing a lock of hair back from Dulce’s face.

“We fell asleep,” Dulce said, voice still thick with sleep, “and I didn’t put any of the food away.”

Ronnie shook her head and caressed the back of her hand down Dulce’s face. “I can do it. Why don’t you go into bed?”

“Are you sure?”Dulce asked, blinking. Her face was still soft with sleep. 

Usually Dulce’s face was quicksilver, full of emotions and life. Something about a sleepy Dulce was slower, like a brook. Ronnie wanted to catalogue all the faces that Dulce had.

“Yup,” Ronnie confirmed. “Go on.”

Dulce rubbed her eyes twice and kissed Ronnie before sliding off the couch. “Come on, Joni,” Dulce muttered sleepily. 

Ronnie caught the blanket as Joni plopped to the floor, half dragging the blanket with her. Joni bumped her nose into Dulce’s hand, earning her a rub. They turned the corner into the bedroom as a unit. It did funny things to Ronnie’s chest. 

Rather than think about it, Ronnie got up, folded the displaced blanket and placed it over the back of the couch before heading to the dining room. Dulce’s insistence she hadn’t cleaned was not fully true. Plates had been neatly stacked, dishes covered. Ronnie made quick work of putting the leftovers in the fridge and rinsing the dishes. 

As she transferred dishes from the sink to the dishwasher, Ronnie’s mind turned over the changes this winter had blown in. The house had been so empty when Karen had left for Toronto. Ronnie had told herself she liked the peace and quiet. Even before that, Karen had never tried to wait up for her when Ronnie had been out on a plow job or worked late at a site. Karen hadn’t loved Ronnie’s weird hours and dedication to her job. 

Dulce had her own weird hours, though they were less now. When Ronnie headed over to Dulce’s apartment, there was always a worktable set up with the tiny dried-flower wreaths she made to give away rather than sell. Ronnie liked coming home to find Dulce curled up with Joni, ordering seed and sourcing flowers from farther afield, reading glasses perched on her nose.

Ronnie closed the dishwasher and gave a wipedown of all the counters. She looked at her kitchen, done just the way she liked it, before shutting off the lights and heading to the bedroom.

Low light filtered in from the curtains, creating shadowy silhouettes of the woman and dog in the bed. Joni had taken up her spot in the bed, back curled against Dulce’s. “Hey, end of the bed, you.”

Joni huffed and snuffled before getting up. She sunk down to the end of the bed. Ronnie quickly disrobed before slipping under the comforter. She slid across the flannel, sinking her weight against the soft woman waiting for her. 

“This is kinda nice, you know,” Dulce murmured, her own arms coming up to hold Ronnie’s in place. 

“What?” Ronnie whispered, pressing a kiss to the base of Dulce’s neck.

“You going out,” Dulce explained, “doing what you do to take care of the town and coming home. So long as you don’t mind me being in your home.”

“I’m glad you think so.” Ronnie pressed another kiss to Dulce’s neck. “I like having you here when I come home.”

Ronnie’s breathing evened out, matching the pace of Dulce’s and they fell asleep curled around each other.   
~*~

Patrick came in on the second Thursday of March with an armful of files in his stocky arms and a determined look. Ronnie rolled her eyes and shot a look to Roland. “This oughta be good,” she mouthed.

“I think I’ve finally managed to make some sense out of the town budget as well as the accounting we’ve done,” Patrick said when he made it to his desk. 

Roland shot a look Ronnie’s way before turning to Patrick. He steepled his hands on his chest and creaked the chair back and forth as he asked, “And?”

“Well,” Patrick said. “we’re doing surprisingly well. We’ve spent less than we’ve brought in through tax revenue. The Rosebud Motel and the Apothecary have added to our tax base with sales. We're in the black, so to speak.

“Ah, fresh money to burn,” Roland chortled.

Patrick shook his head, a stress wrinkle creeping into his brow. “That’s not what I said, Roland.”

“I’m just saying, we could maybe pull off Moira’s Noguchi statue park with that money.”

“No. Here, I’ve made reports for each of you.” Patrick handed out thick, navy blue folders to each of them. Ronnie flipped hers open and was greeted with a far cleaner top presentation sheet than Ray ever had given. Ray liked the liberal use of clip art. “I figured we could go over these as part of today’s town business.”

“But that’s _so boring,”_ Roland whined.

“Ooh, look, Roland,” Bob said, pointing to the top page inside the folder, turning it so Roland could see, even though Roland was already in his phone. “Patrick does the little color wheels Ray used to do.”

Patrick’s eyes went wide and blank, like he’d quit his body, as his graphs were relegated to simple color wheels. He rebooted within ten seconds, blinking, and his voice was only half-strangled as he said, “Pie charts. Yes.”

“We still haven’t figured out what we’re doing with the whole rec center revamp,” Ronnie mentioned, frowning at the budget pages.

“Maybe some of this color could shift to the rec center,” Bob said, pointing at one of the sections. “Oh, and my bench needs a new paint job.”

Roland looked up from his phone. “Hey, all, Joce sends her love and wants us to start thinking about her graduation plans. I told her we had money that needed to go and she got _very_ excited.”

“Alright, so as a town you don’t necessarily want to spend all of your budget. I have some ideas for general rehabilitation and then for town surplus accounts. If you’ll flip to page three.”

“Joce wants fireworks. Like a whole big bang for graduation.”

Ronnie cringed, tilting her head to look at Roland. Odds on him being oblivious to his suggestions was about fifty-fifty. Ronnie’s eyes darted back to Patrick who was now pinching the bridge of his nose. Kid was starting to get the hang of town council.

“Considering we don’t have a fire department, Roland, that might not be the best idea. Now if you’ll turn to page three,” Patrick tried again.

Roland closed the portfolio and buried it under the other paperwork on his desk. “I think it’s time for some lunch.”

“It’s ten in the morning!” Patrick protested. 

“Second breakfast, then, if you will. Excuse me,” Roland said, making a quick exit from the town hall. 

Patrick looked a little crestfallen at Roland’s exit. He stood in place, shifting his weight from one foot to the other and looking down at the report in his hands. Ronnie couldn’t help but feel a little bad for him.

“I wouldn’t worry about it,” she told him, earning her a curious look from Bob. “Roland’s been allergic to math as long as I’ve known him. Besides, who knows what Jocelyn texted him after fireworks. It’s best not to ask.”

Patrick nodded and headed to sit down at his desk. 

“You could explain it to Bob and I. Your financial plans,” Ronnie clarified. “The tennis court does need a new net.”

“And the bench a new coat of paint,” Bob added, winking at her.

Patrick brightened, like a fucking kid on Christmas. “Alright. I suppose we can all fill Roland in later. Now if you turn to page three…”

Ronnie followed along, kind of missing Ray’s smiley flowers and rolling kittens. Patrick knew his shit, though. Ronnie picked up her phone and tapped out a text to David. **How long did your husband spend on these reports?**

They’d made it to page 5 when she got back _Do not let him come home with any of those. He’s practiced the presentation he has for council no less than thrice. I already have to sit through Apothecary and house budgets._

**Roland dipped. I am sitting through this for your benefit.**

“Ronnie, we’ve made it to page six. If you could put your phone down?” Patrick asked, his nearly-hairless brows at his hairline.

“Your husband says hello,” Ronnie shot back. **He’s almost as insistent on one's attention as Joce.** she tapped out before putting the phone back down and deciding to give Brewer the benefit of her attention. 

~*~

Joni yawned big and wide, her pink tongue curling in the air before she settled back down, bored out of her mind. Ronnie couldn’t help but agree. “This is ridiculous, Ray.”

Having pictures taken of a dog like it was a child was bad enough. Worse still, Ray was dressed in a level of protection that was beyond what seemed necessary. Ray was dressed in a full coverall, wearing a respirator and goggles as well as booties on his shoes. For his house, Ray had set out drop cloths and cardboard all over the floor for ease of clean up. There was also a double layer of plastic sheeting keeping the photography area separate from the rest of the house. 

As part of this venture, Ray had made Ronnie bring over all of Joni’s favorite things and somehow also had a trunk full of dog costumes ready to go.

“Do you like the outfit?” Ray asked, settling a hand on his hip and popping it slightly. “My cousin who does asbestos removal lent it to me. Except for the booties.” Ray’s hands flew back into motion as he continued. “I keep those for house showings.”

Ronnie sidestepped Ray’s outfit entirely. “We don’t have to do this.”

“Of course we do!” Ray argued back, in his happiest and politest tone. “What kind of pet owner and business man would I be if I advertised pet pictures without pictures of my own dog. Our dog,” he corrected with a cough.

“I’m just wondering about the sustainability of taking pet pictures with your allergies,” Ronnie commented. “Or through those goggles.”

“Oh, Ronnie, that’s what the suit is for, and the filter.” Ray pointed at his eyes from the outside of his goggles in a blue gloved hand. “Look, very fresh and new.”

“Mmm.”

Ray dove into the costume box with clumsy, gloved hands. “Now, what costume do you want? I have a cowboy...cowgirl I guess, I have a firefighter, we have an explorer. _Ooh,_ there’s the mermaid, _very popular,”_ Ray confided.

Ray was holding up a mermaid body with arms and what looked like a hole for Joni’s head to slide through. It looked about two sizes too small.

Ronnie shook her head. “Joni’s a simple girl, Ray. None of this nonsense.”

Ray tsked at her through his suit. “You’re simple, Ronnie.” He turned to address the dog directly, who was chewing her feet on the drop cloth. “Joni, you’d like a costume, wouldn’t you?”

Joni, to her credit, let out a snore from her position on the dropcloth. 

“Just the bow tie, Ray,” Ronnie instructed, pointing at the chest. 

Ray came up with a comically large bowtie that was white with red polka dots. It was definitely not the one she had been pointing to. “No, not the clown one, the other one.” 

Ray frowned at her deeply. Well. at least his eyes crinkled the way they usually did when he was sad. Ray put the clown bowtie back and came up with a simple tartan plaid.

“Yes.”

“It’s a little boring don’t you think?” Ray asked, turning the smaller bowtie over in his hands.

“No, I don’t think,” Ronnie shot back. “Put it on her.”

Ray got to business, putting the bowtie on Joni’s collar and then began taking pictures. Joni remained as blissfully nonchalant from beginning of the session to the end, despite all of Ray’s antics, use of toys and many commands he gave through the mask. Most of the pictures featured Joni laying down, the bowtie awkwardly at the back of her neck. Ray managed to get her to sit up for three shots by using treats, but once he was out of treats, Joni went back to her nap. 

The arguments for more costumes and more pictures were quickly aborted when Ray started sneezing after an hour and a half, despite the precautions. Ronnie collected Joni over all of Ray’s protests and headed home. And while she hated the photoshopped pictures Ray used to promote his pet picture business, Ronnie did place a shot of Joni sitting up at attention for chicken jerky, bowtie slightly askew, on her mantle.


	6. April

### April

April came with the wet and soggy thawing that led to mud upon mud. A snow-squall occasionally blew through but for the most part the sun shone more. Walks with Joni continued to be long and rewarding, with all the smells to smell and people to greet. In April, it wasn’t quite as upsetting when Ray yelled at them from out the car window. Mostly because it was above freezing when he did it.

“Oh Joni! Joni Mitchel!” Ray sing-songed out of the window of his car. Joni’s head swiveled and she began grinning. When Ronnie pulled to a stop, he seemed to notice her human existence and waved saying, “Ronnie!”

“You know, Ray, you could _not_ yell at me when I am walking the dog,” Ronnie shot back. “Particularly, from a moving car.”

Ignoring her, Ray turned to his greatest love, Joni. “Hello, Joni! How are you doing? Are you feeling any better?”

Ronnie rolled her eyes. “She’s fine, Ray.”

Ray clucked at her. “I think it’s allowed to check in on _our_ dog after an incident like the porcupine quills. When you sent me the picture of her face I just wanted to hug her, even though it would have left me very itchy and snotty.” 

Ray gave a softer cluck of his tongue, his head tilting the other way as he considered them both. “She’s healing alright? You got the salve I dropped off?” 

Ronnie grunted an acknowledgement, nodding her head, but Ray was already off on his next tangent. “Also, who knew that removing porcupine pills would be so expensive? I paid the bill by the way.”

“That was the deal when we made this custody agreement, Ray,” Ronnie shot back at his pointed comment. “I do the heavy lifting, you do the bills. And when it’s all said and done, I think I almost prefer the porcupine incident to the skunk run in.” Ronnie shuddered, just mentioning the skunk brought the smell back to her. “My house is almost clean, but I catch a whiff of it every now and then.”

“That does sound terrible,” Ray acknowledged, tilting his head again. A mischievous grin took over his face. “However, far less expensive!”

“Have a nice day, Ray!” Ronnie shot back.

Ronnie and Joni took up their path again through the town. Ray would probably be stopping by within the hour to check on Joni. 

“You’re causing all kinds of trouble, you know that,” Ronnie said to Joni.

Joni continued to happily sniff along the path. “I’m thinking of getting that nose of yours removed,” Ronnie told Joni.

No response came. Joni just continued on her path. “Let’s make a deal. No more skunks. No more porcupines. No more exciting friends, okay?”

Joni picked her head up and looked at Ronnie with her heavy-lidded eyes. Ronnie nodded at Joni. “Sounds like a deal.”

A snort was Ronnie’s response. There were still a few wounds that were scabbing up and healing on Joni’s face. Ronnie was going to have to pull the salve out when she got home and re-apply it. Maybe, if she was kind, she’d let Ray watch her put the salve on.

“Despite all this trouble, I guess I’ll keep you,” Ronnie told Joni as they continued walking through town.

~*~

Ronnie re-read the proposal in her hands three times before looking up at the man seated at the desk across from her. Patrick was busily tapping away on the laptop he brought with him every Thursday, insisting he’d work better than on the town hall’s ancient Dell. And he did get a decent amount of work done. Ronnie had to give it to the thumb, he worked hard.

“David’s putting in a petition for us to get cherry trees?” she asked, figuring he’d have more information.

“Mmm,” Patrick took the pen out from between his teeth and looked across to Ronnie’s desk. “Oh, yeah, he’d prefer not to have to drive all the way out to Elm Valley to go see the trees bloom. We missed the peak bloom by two days last year and he’s decided that it’s better for everyone if he can hit peak bloom by walking down the street. Also, he spent a considerable amount of time talking about general town ambience.”

“And he thinks that people will come here rather than Elm Valley because...?” Ronnie trailed off, eyebrows raising suspiciously. 

Honestly, Elm Valley wouldn’t take kindly to the revenue competition that would arise if Schitt’s Creek started advertising their own botanical gardens with their own cherry trees. Elm Valley was established and had a regular promotion for their Cherry Blossom Festival. Locals and those who traveled wouldn’t necessarily be looking for a new place to go.

Patrick sighed, giving her a shrug and turning away from his computer again. “Ronnie, I don’t know. He refused my help on the proposal.”

“He refused _your_ help?” Ronnie’s disbelief laced her voice. “You’re on the town council.”

Patrick stopped his typing and closed his laptop. “He muttered about nepotism and backstabbing for like an hour after I offered. Pretty sure he was talking about Mrs. Rose. Anyway, I promised him I would abstain from voting.”

“What if it’s tied?” Bob asked.

“There’s four of us. If I abstain that’s three,” Patrick reminded Bob. “And I can honestly say I neither campaigned for you all to accept David’s proposal or told you to tank it because I didn’t have faith in it.”

“And your honest opinion?” Ronnie asked, flipping back through the proposal. 

Patrick sighed again, frowning at her deeply. “Ronnie, that would be breaking a promise I made to my husband. Cannot do that.”

The thing about Patrick Brewer was just about every time she had him pegged, he surprised her. When he first arrived, Ronnie had him pegged as smitten with David. His love song for David had been impressive, but that sense of devoted business partner had blown up with the arrival of Rachel. Moira had shown up beside herself to town council work that week, going on about David’s grief over Patrick’s secret fiance and Ronnie had chosen David’s side. Nothing Patrick had done after that had improved Ronnie’s opinion of Patrick back to her initial thinking. 

Patrick was a people pleaser with the complexion and personality of soggy Cheerios, and had an unfortunate habit of either over-thinking or under-thinking everything that came out of his mouth. However, being forced to spend time with him on council, Ronnie kept seeing these sides of Patrick that made her question her opinion. 

“What is it with the Rose’s and plants?” Roland demanded, dropping his wrapped sandwich from the cafe on his desk before collapsing into his chair. “Topiaries! Gardens! And now a grove of cherry trees. Twyla asked me about David’s plan for a new garden when I was getting lunch. Isn’t the one for his mother that Johnny made me get enough?”

Roland shot a pointed look at Patrick, whose translucent eyebrows shot up to his hairline. 

“Patrick knows nothing about it,” Ronnie told Roland with a grin.

“Of course he doesn’t,” Roland sighed.

“Cherry trees would be nice. Gwen always liked to go meet friends in the Elm Valley Botanical Gardens when they bloomed.” Bob’s gaze softened. “Maybe Gwen would meet me in the Cherry Trees.”

Silence descended over the room as no one seemed to want to burst the nearly year-long bubble Bob was living in that Gwen was ever coming back. Patrick bit on his pen some more, Ronnie re-read David’s proposal, and Roland unwrapped his sandwich. 

Roland took a bite of his sandwich, and spoke with his mouth full. He gestured with it, bits of onion and shredded lettuce falling on the desk. “I mean, we could put one in next to the Moira’s Rose’s Garden. Would that count?”

Ronnie shook her head, frowning as she went over the pages again. “He’s definitely asking for a whole grove of trees, along with some other gardens. He’s got design drawings.”

“Aww,” Bob said, leaning on his hand, his voice soft and wistful. “Those are really nice. Gwen would like them.”

“What do you think, Pat?” Roland asked. “This tree idea fits in with your budget for us?”

“Patrick’s abstaining,” Ronnie shot back at Roland.

“Not getting any at home, huh, Pat?” Roland chuckled to himself. “Sometimes Joce and I like to take some time off to recharge the old batteries. 48 hours without and whooo! Are you ever ready to go!”

“Abstaining from the vote, Roland,” Patrick clarified. He was getting good at not reacting to Roland, Ronnie had to admit. “It's a conflict of interest. I think David’s worried I’ll push too hard for them because we stayed here instead of going to New York.”

Roland raised a hand. “Ooh, Can I not vote because I’m Dave’s godfather?”

“No.” Ronnie told him flatly, before turning back to Patrick. “You haven’t said what you think either way, Patrick. Also, what’s this about New York?”

Roland leaned back, bouncing in his chair. He waved a hand in Patrick’s direction.“Oh, they were all going to go, whole kit and kaboodle of Roses, not just Moira and Jonny. Dave chose to stay here. He says it’s for Pat, but he would miss his godfather.”

“It’s not like I wouldn’t have gone,” Patrick said, frowning as he looked down, that little stress line appearing between his brows. “It would have been a new adventure. I just wasn’t entirely ready to give up this one. Honestly, though, if Stevie hadn’t been staying I don’t know that we would have either. And that would have been fine. But I’m not sorry we stayed.”

Patrick looked resolute in his decision. Ronnie hadn’t realized she’d at some point started to equate Patrick and his not rocking the boat behavior with Karen’s own people-pleasing behavior. Instead, Ronnie feared, Patrick had more in common with Ronnie than she wanted to admit.

“Alright, well,” Ronnie stood, heading over and dropping the proposal on Patrick’s desk. “You’re still going to have to look at this proposal to tell us the numbers, even if you’re not saying anything else. We’re not pissing off Elm Valley unless we stand to make some money.”

“Ugh! I don’t want to listen to their whining at RAMC if I can’t rub it in their faces!” Roland whined.

“I’m going to get lunch,” Ronnie said, clapping both hands on the desk before standing. She shot a look to the desk across from hers. “Brewer, you wanna come?”

Silence settled in the room and Patrick looked at everyone else before glancing back at Ronnie. “Uh, me?” he squeaked. 

“We got another Brewer in here? Come on, we’ve gotta figure out what to do about the summer league anyhow.”

“O-Okay. Sure. Yeah, we can do that,” Patrick said, pushing up from his desk. 

~*~

The Spring Street fair had been Twyla’s proposal for town funds and as a means of revenue. Local businesses had set up tables in the center of town, anchored by Rose Apothecary and Twyla’s Cafe Tropical. They had solicited other local businesses to come in and share in the street fair. Heather Warner had set up with cheese based foods, Ivan had a bake table, and there was some fruit wine that only Roland liked. Bob’s Garage was giving rides on their hydraulic lift and Carmine had found some carnival rides that Ronnie was hoping were actually inspected.

Roland and Bob had assured both her and Patrick that everything was on the up and up. As Ronnie strolled down the blocked off main street, shecaught Patrick stealing glances toward Carmine and his rented carnival rides. On his third glance as she walked toward the table, Patrick caught Ronnie’s eye as he looked back. Ronnie gave him a shrug and shook her head. 

Dulce also rented a table which was overflowing with spring flowers. Daffodils in bouquets, small nosegays of crocuses and snowdrops, tall vases of forsythia and pussy willow branches lined the perimeter of the table. Dulce was beautiful, full makeup and heels while she worked the table. 

Ronnie sidled up to the edge of the table. “Hey there,” Ronnie said. “Do you have anything that would be a good gift for my girlfriend?”

Dulce looked up from her current sale and winked at Ronnie. “I think I could find something. Give me a minute.”

“As many as you need,” Ronnie told her.

Ronnie watched as Dulce wrapped up her sale to Doris, making sure the flowers were neatly wrapped in paper and tucked into Doris’s bag. “Thank you for shopping,” Dulce said, waving Doris off.

“Looks like you’ve been busy,” Ronnie said. Now that she was close, Ronnie could see the holes that had formed in Dulce’s table. Dulce also had a piece of hair falling out of her updo that showed off her undercut. Ronnie reached out to tuck it behind Dulce’s ear.

Dulce leaned over and gave Ronnie a kiss. “Yes. Would you poke into my van and go grab two more buckets of daffodils? I haven’t been able to get back there.”

“Sure,” Ronnie said, stealing a second kiss. “Be right back.”

“Thank you,” Dulce said, brightly. 

Ronnie headed back to the van, parked not too far from Dulce’s table. She grabbed two buckets of daffodils out of the refrigerated back of the van and closed it before heading back to Dulce. Ronnie allowed herself to be bossed around by her girlfriend, helping to reset daffodils and other flowers on the table, cutting ribbon and carefully making paper cones. There was a nice rhythm to the work.

Ronnie was mid-work when she heard a familiar voice say,“Oh, hello Ronnie.”

Ronnie looked up to see Mrs. Tanner standing by Dulce’s table with a grin on her face. She knew that grin. Jocelyn had inherited from her mother. “Hi Mrs. Tanner.”

“Who is this lovely person?” Mrs. Tanner asked, pointedly.

Ronnie knew an angle for an introduction when she heard one. Small town living was never quite as boring as people made it out to be. 

Ronnie wiped her hands on her jeans as she stood. “Mrs. Tanner, this is Dulce, my girlfriend. Dulce, this is Mrs. Tanner, a frequent client.”

Mrs. Tanner put a bony hand on Ronnie’s arm and gave it a squeeze. “Yes, dear, I think I need the driveway redone. Also, Phil says you’ve not been into the Wobbly Elm as frequently as of late.” Mrs. Tanner gave a wink to Ronnie before turning to Dulce, and her wide grin returned. “My son also speaks _very_ highly of you, when you are in.”

“Mmm,” Ronnie muttered, “He’s not wrong. Dulce is amazing. Do you need any flowers?”

“No dear, no. Just wanted to talk to you about my driveway. Will you come look at it? There’s been some frost heaves,” Mrs. Tanner continued. “Got some big holes.”

“I’ll come look at it tomorrow,” Ronnie promised. “I’m here working for Dulce today.”

“She is not. Do not believe her,” Dulce said conspiratorial to Mrs. Tanner. Of course, Mrs. Tanner brightened under Dulce’s attention. “She’s working as part of the town council, overseeing the event.”

“Oh, I’ll leave you girls to your work. Good to see you both.”

Mrs. Tanner headed off down the street. 

“She’s nice,” Dulce said as Mrs. Tanner retreated.

“She’s a shark,” Ronnie said, cutting another length of ribbon. “A nice shark, but a shark.”

Dulce’s gaze went soft and she reached up and cupped Ronnie’s face. Her voice was thick when she said, “Thank you.”

“For what?” Ronnie asked, bringing her hand up to cover Dulce’s on her cheek. She leaned deeper into the sensation.

“This is a beautiful day,” Dulce said, “and I’m very grateful that you’re here, helping me.”

“I’m glad we’re here, together, too.”

There was a snap and click of a camera which startled Ronnie out of the trance she was in. Turning, she saw Ray, camera in hand, with a giant grin on his face. “You two make a lovely picture.”

“Ray, what are the rules?”

“That I cannot use any pictures for promotion without express permission,” Ray told her, a grin still on his face. “This will be a gift. You can pick a background.”

Ronnie rolled her eyes as she tucked her head into Dulce’s neck. “Not now, Ray. Thank you!”

“It’s lovely to see you, Dulce,” Ray called. “I do have to go promote my businesses. I’ll see you after the fair!”

“Are you sure you’re glad to be here with all the people who know me?” Ronnie asked, still tucked against Dulce. “I have very nosy friends.”

Dulce’s hand ran down Ronnie’s hair. A kiss was pressed to Ronnie’s temple. “I like your town and your nosy friends and your general presence.”

Ronnie pulled back. “I just want it known that I gave you a chance to get out,” Ronnie said, cutting Dulce a look. 

“So noted.” Dulce pressed a kiss to Ronnie’s nose. “You should go check on Joni. It’s calming down out here. I can restock the table myself.”

“Are you sure?” Ronnie asked. 

Dulce pushed gently at Ronnie’s shoulders. “Yeah, go see your best girl.”

“I have two best girls,” Ronnie said, leaning in for another kiss. “Speaking of, you still need to pick something out for my girlfriend.”

“Go,” Dulce laughed. 

Ronnie grinned and tucked her hands into her pockets. Dulce was right. It was a beautiful day, and Ronnie couldn’t think of a better way to spend it.


End file.
